And Maybe Our Skies Are Grey
by Sara Darkotter
Summary: ...but there's sunlight anyway. /Femmeslash drabbles, all eras
1. Innocence - LucyxUnnamed

So joined the Femmeslash project over at HPFC. Will be updating it several times each month with drabbles and such. Enjoy.

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"Once, she dreamed of romance. Once, she imagined she lived in a castle"

Lucy/Unnamed

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Lucy. Even her name felt innocent when rolled off the tongue, soft syllables and short like a nickname. Lucy spent her childhood innocent, dreaming of romance and castles and being told about princes who would sweep her away into gorgeous sunsets. She chased after that, fairy tales her constant companion and the darkness lurking in them never quite reaching her.

Innocent, and this was not. Innocent was not pressing a girl into the wall of a closet, telling yourself that you're too drunk to know what you're doing even thought both of you had barely touched alcohol. Innocent was not her fingers sliding up this stranger's soft thighs, seeking the place between that she'd only read clinical books of, finding it so quickly and finding nothing between her fingers and the dampness there. Innocent was not the moan, breathy and high, that slipped from the girl's lips.

This was not innocent, this was not Lucy, and this girl was not a prince.

And yet...  
Lucy found she liked this better than the faceless prince even when she flushed shyly at the girl's own roaming hands, even when they were both too embarrassed to continue, even when they actually got a little drunk and giggled and clung to each other by the lips in a two-person kissing contest. Because it was a lot better than the boy she kissed last year (looking for the faceless prince) and she wasn't sure why. But she liked it.

Even when her father spent the next year telling her it was wrong.


	2. Denial - HermionexLuna

Prompts: Porcelain skin, denial

Theme: infidelity

Luna/Hermione

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Hermione loved spending time with Luna, more than she'd admit to herself. She told herself every morning as she brushed her teeth to garble the words. _"It's not romantic, it's a friend-love."_ They never even kissed. Never, ever, considered it.

That was what Hermione liked about their time, the closeness she craved so much since a childhood alone. She liked leaning against Luna's shoulder, the lack of pressure to dumb down conversation for others, she liked Luna's hands stroking her hair lovingly. Ron never did that, his hands almost never touching her face, his hands almost never touching her except when they shagged these days so even when they started out innocent always took a turn south within minutes and so she loved when Luna did this. It made her feel... Loved.

She liked escaping to Luna's little home, where there was no need to prove anything. No pressure from in-laws and husband to give up her job and have children now she'd married, no need to overwork more than even the other girls in the office to prove she was the Brightest Witch and therefore not just Ron Weasley's wife, no worries that she'd come home an hour later than usual and Ron would expect her to mother him because he didn't want to learn to use the muggle stove.

She sat against Luna in the sunlit meadow or by the fireside and just breathed, she and Luna would talk for hours, and those porcelain-skinned hands would stroke her hair lovingly, aimlessly, working out knots over and over so slowly. Hermione never wanted to leave, she wanted to stay by Luna's warm side forever, them and sunlight and the way it lit Luna's eyes.

_"Still,_" she told herself. _"We're not in love."_


	3. Lighthouses - DominiquexRoxanne

Pairing: Dominique/Roxanne

_"And [she] touched me, and I let [her] love me. So let that be my story" - Spring Awakening_

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"You want my story?"

The woman looks polite, but a smug smile flits in her eyes.

"No, you don't. You want a headline, the shocking news of the decade, you want to write about the girl whose cousin forced her or convinced her or took advantage, you want to hint at the idea of a girl forcing sex and then taking that back because you live in a angel/slut world and neither of those are beings who force sex, one is impure and disgusting and wants it and throws herself at men and the other is demure and right and never wants it and needs to be chased. You want a world that fits narrowly into tiny ideas from darker ages." Roxanne braids a small lock of hair. "You wouldn't want my story. It doesn't fit into any of those."

The woman looks confused now, dictating quill scratching down her words. "What... is it, then?" There is a crack between narrow aisles in her mind, one that had been a thin line and right now Roxanne has it pried wide open.

"We were young, and learning, and clinging to each other, taking away the dangers we let into our arms-" Here the woman glances at a faded few x-shaped scars, lining the inside of Roxanne's thighs. "-holding each other up and holding out the light. And to Dom I became the light, and she touched me, and I let her love me. Let that be my story."

Roxanne looks out the window at the water far below, and remembers a morning waking in a dreary city when Dominique never returned to bed. Far across that water, a witch lives as a muggle, escaping forever the world she had hated, and a witch lives on this side, holds the lighthouse of her body, and waits for the beacon of her heart to return.

"Yes. Let that be my story."


	4. Home Lily LunaxOC

Lily Luna/OC

Theme: AU

"Don't shed a tear for me - I stand alone" - Blackmore's Night, "Village Lanterne"

*note: I used the full song for inspiration more than this individual line...

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They stood brave against the world, and the world screamed back.

The world was always screaming, but that's not the point. The point... The point is that my little sister was a warrior in more ways than you thought.

People say I'm the image of my father, and they think I'm exactly like him inside, but they're wrong, and they're wrong about Lily. She was more like him than any of us three. We weren't much like him though anyway.

She took her role as a symbol of hope in our dark century and used it to make herself a guardian, she was a snake with a griffin's wings, and that made her the true leader of us.

But this isn't about that.

It's about how she loved. She loved Andy like a fire in summer, and she followed that path of destiny, those two girls in the middle of war and leaders both.

Funny, how people on opposite sides seem to get drawn to each other. Isn't it? I think so, in a painful way, like how when you're hurt inside so you smile so bright we'd think it was eternal summer in your mind.

I still see it, her standing alone in that battle, wand pointed, and the way she looked back at me. 'Don't cry,' she mouthed, or yelled, or called. There's no sound to this memory, or it's so loud I don't remember. 'I'm going home.'

One calculated death, that she forgot to tell us about. Hers.

And I still remember the way the Dark's Lieutenant charged after her own soldier.

And I still remember the death.

I wish I could forget the scream.

So I'll begin like the healer said, from the beginning...


	5. Imperfect - LavenderPadma

_Pairing: Lavender/Padma_

_Note: This was written for both the Femmeslash Challenge and the Quidditch League Competition. QLC prompts are as follows: mirror, "Sometimes your life boils down to one insane move." – Avatar and Dialogue: "Ahhh, nostalgia. How sweet you are."_

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Sometimes, lives lead up to one insane move, or avoiding it, and there are only two choices, versus the usual million.

For Lavender, it was the mirror. It was the wretched, taunting mirror on the wall, a sheet pinned over it, reminding her that her face was no longer beautiful, that she now had nothing anyone would be remotely interested in.

Instead, she was Lavender Brown the part-werewolf, tastes and sights and smells and appearance not human every moon but not werewolf, some grotesque halfway with a thirst for bloody meat.

She was wretched, lacking every trait that acceptable girls had, and so unaccepted.

She pressed a pillow to her face and howled her grief into it again as she felt the moon rise, her spine tried to jut and stretch, legs locking in uncomfortable positions under her torso. Wolves and people had similar skeletons, built very differently.

"Lavender?"

Padma had a soothing voice. She could hear it better then ever, the details of the way she pronounced every letter in her name.

"Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

She shook her head, scratching a scar against a nail, and with a gasp sat up to inspect the hand. She stared at Padma's perfect lacquered nails, her dark skin glowing with health even in the dark, the perfect balance of her features marred only by thin scars at the corner of an eye, a curse scar that had taken a piece of her ear. So perfect, so whole...

_Now they were fourth years and giggling about a book of Sleepover Games for Young Witches and _  
_"But what if it lands on a girl?" Padma suddenly let off her giggles and smiled at her._  
_"Well, I wouldn't mind kissing you, Lavender. Would you?"_

There was a photo somewhere of them lounging on Parvati's bed with that book, laughing, Hermione alternately closing her shades and opening them to yell silently, and Lavender wanted to see it. To remember she had been young and beautiful and innocent and even girls had wanted to kiss her. She leapt off the bed and shuffled to her mirror, gritting her teeth.

It was only them in the dorm now, two girls and five beds and lots of space. No one would see... But she would see. She could do this... She could. She was a Gryffindor, she fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, who cared if she wasn't beautiful anymore, she had been and lost it honorably!

She yanked off the sheet before she quailed again.

The photo was taped to the top at an off angle, a lipstick mark right next to it, a smear of eyeshadow off to the right. The scars cut right across her cheek, pink-red and shiny, and deep, they ripped down her throat, disappearing under her shirt. She couldn't bear to examine the rest of her.

But younger Padma and Lavender were still laughing, and still happy, and Padma kissed Lavender on the cheek. They fell off the bed shrieking with silent laughter.

"Nostalgia. How sweet you are." Padma touched the photo and looked at her. "I'd kiss you now, you know. It was never about your beauty. It was about you. About liking you. I'd like to stay with you after Hogwarts. Hold your hand. Sleep in your bed. But I understand if you say no."  
She didn't know where that speech came from or this warmth and pain welling in her but she did know what she wanted to do, and she kissed Padma's perfect lips, for loving an imperfect girl.


End file.
